Fevered & Outside The Haze
by Arwen Jade Kenobi
Summary: House is sick and Wilson worries. Fevered is written purely from House's perspective while Outside the Haze is written from Wilson's. Mild slash warning.
1. Fevered

Title: Fevered

Author: Arwen Kenobi

Genre: Angst, H/C

Rating: G

Pairing: Greg House/James Wilson

Summary: House is sick and very out of it

Timeframe: I didn't have a set time in mind, so use your imagination

Spoilers: None

He opens his eyes and screams. The man with brown hair and eyes tries to calm him down but he continues to fight back. They're after him, he just knows it. The brown eyed man keeps trying to say something to him but he can't understand a word of it. Doesn't want to anyways, it's all a bunch of lies.

The next time the brown eyed man says something he punches him in the face and he vanishes from sight. That's the last thing he remembers.

- - - - -

He spends most of his time asleep, he knows that much. Or else they must be doing something to make him forget things like who he is, where he is, and why the brown eyed man doesn't ever leave his room. There's a bruise on the brown eyed man's left cheek, spreading from the corner of his mouth and out. He remembers doing that to him and part of him says he should say he's sorry, but he can't make himself form the words.

The brown eyed man never leaves. At least he's pretty sure he never leaves. He doesn't really remember anything anymore. He can't even concentrate enough to try and read the tag pinned on the brown eyed man's white coat. The letters blur together and mean nothing to him.

The brown eyed man is talking to him now, saying something that he can't understand. He's holding his hand and running fingers through his hair. It feels nice. It distracts him from how cold he feels, though he recognizes somewhere that he's sweating. His legs hurt, his arms hurt, his head hurts. Everything hurts.

He doesn't remember the brown eyed man ever letting go of his hand or stopping his caresses. One time, he reaches out and traces the bruise on the brown eyed man's face. His mouth moves and words come out, but he doesn't know what they are. The brown eyed man just smiles a little and kisses his hand.

- - -

The next time he wakes up he recognizes that he's somewhere new. He's in a bigger bed and in a room that looks almost familiar. It must be someone's house, his own house maybe?

House.

Part of his brain clears and he remembers that name, _his _name. Gregory House. That's got to mean something positive. More will come back, he is sure of that, but his name is enough for now.

Some more of the haze clears as realizes that he's a doctor and he was in a hospital before. He's sick. Very sick, he believes. But he must be doing a bit better now since he's at home and he's starting to remember and feels a bit better; still sluggish, still hurting, and still exhausted but better.

The brown eyed man suddenly appears beside him. He's holding a spoon in one hand and a bowl in the other. He, i _House /i _ he reminds himself, becomes aware that he's sitting up a bit, propped up with a bunch of pillows. He doesn't remember moving. The brown eyed man says something to him, but again the words don't register to him. He stares blankly at him and the man looks sad. He decides he doesn't like the way that man is looking and hopes to see that smile again. He likes that smile.

- - -

He's throwing up now. He remembers having done this too many times to count and he wishes it would stop. The brown eyed man is holding him up as he vomits into a basin, one hand rubbing his back and he registers he's being spoken to but still can't understand everything being said. He catches a few words like "okay", "here", and "Greg" but can't make any sense of the others. It makes him angry, but he can't worry about that now.

The next time he opens his eyes he's lying back down in bed. The brown eyed man has put a cold washcloth on his head, and it feels wonderful. He doesn't feel quite so hot anymore, and he doesn't remember the last time he didn't feel like there was lava pumping through him.

The brown eyed man is trying to help him. He moves the washcloth gently across his burning face. He sighs contentedly and the washcloth soon returns to rest on his forehead. He reaches out and grabs the brown eyed man's hand and squeezes. The brown eyed man squeezes back and brushes his free fingers against his wet cheek and then starts running his fingers through his hair again.

His eyes begin slip shut again and he manages to say something and understand it before everything goes dark.

"Stay…"

- - - -

He opens his eyes and finds the brown eyed man sleeping on the bed with him on his left side. He's facing him, hair falling into his eyes and one arm shoved under the pillow. The other hand is still knotted in his own. He looks at this young man and in the quiet moments that follow makes a discovery:

He i _knows /i _ the man lying beside him.

James Wilson, boy wonder oncologist, his best friend of twelve years and his lover of nearly three.

He vaguely remembers everything else, but this is all that's important. His vision seems to clear a bit as he notes the dark circles under Wilson's eyes and how thin he looks. He doesn't allow himself to figure out how long he's been out of it.

He slowly turns himself so he's on his left side and reaches out with his shaky free hand to gently cup the left side of Wilson's face. Wilson shifts slightly at the contact and he begins tracing small circles with his thumb until the brown eyes flutter open. At first they're hazy and lost, then they focus and widen as they notice the change taking place before them.

House smiles weakly and moves that hand to circle around Wilson's neck, bringing their foreheads together. He squeezes the hand locked in his.

"Jimmy…" is all he manages to rasp but it's enough. Wilson lets out a grateful sigh and grateful tears begin to trace down his cheeks. House gently turns back onto his back, bringing Wilson with him so the other man's head is tucked under his chin. He also releases the hand in his so Wilson can cling to him like a lost child. House circles his arms around him protectively and hushes him as the tears slowly stop.

He places a kiss on the top of Wilson's head. "Sleep, Jimmy," he whispers and then follows his own advice.


	2. Outside the Haze

Title: Outside the Haze

Author: Arwen Kenobi

Rating: G

Pairing: House/Wilson

Summary: House is sick, Wilson worries

Timeframe: None in mind when I wrote this, insert where you will

Spoilers: None

The punch sends Wilson spiralling to the floor. He lies there for a few moments as the ducklings and a nurse manage to pin House's limbs to the bed while a second nurse injects a sedative. Cameron is hauling Wilson to his feet and inspecting his face without a word. It's nothing, Wilson knows. It's going to hurt and he's going to have a wicked bruise, but he's not going to die from it.

He stares at the man on the bed and tries to remember how they got to this point. He finds he can't remember any details, but he doesn't really matter right now. All that does matter is the fact that House is sick. His temperature is just short of ice bath requirement levels, he's in all kinds of pain and very confused. House hasn't recognized anyone since admission; whenever he's been awake that is, and that time is brief. A blessing for him but a torture to Wilson when he locks eyes with the man he knows so well only to see that he doesn't know him.

That hurts more than the punch.

- - - -

He sends Cuddy away for the umpteenth time. He's not leaving House, not now. No matter how many threats she shouts at him. He knows that House is so disoriented that he has no clue who he is, where he is, or who anyone else is, but that doesn't mean he's going to leave him. Not when House needs him the most.

_ i I'm not Stacey. /i _

House does little else but sleep, when he does wake up he doesn't say anything. Just stares at Wilson. The look on his face is a ghost of the one that appears when he's trying to solve a difficult puzzle. It breaks Wilson's heart a little more each time he sees it.

So he tries to be consistent for his sick friend's benefit. He continues to hold tightly to House's hand and to drag his fingers lightly through his hair. Wilson talks to him too, about everything and nothing all at once, hoping that something will seep into the fever addled brain and bring him back.

House's eyes open; Wilson smiles at the dull, barely open eyes, and welcomes him back to the land of the living. Healthy House would have either groaned or offered a small smile in response to this comment, but, as Wilson expects, he receives nothing but that blank, puzzled expression.

As Wilson continues to ramble on House suddenly starts to move his free hand. It moves slowly and shakes but Wilson remains still in anxious silence as House reaches out for the first time in too many days. The long fingers touch the bruise on his face, tracing the outline of it gently. As the hand falls away House slurs out a sentence, Wilson can only identify the word 'sorry.' He kisses the palm of that hand and smiles at the sick man again.

- - - -

Wilson finally manages to get Cuddy to release House to his care. He hopes that perhaps his friend's confusion will subside if he's somewhere familiar and not a stale hospital room. House has managed to stay awake a bit longer, enough to get in a few bites of food and that's that. No indication that he knows where he is or who he's with, even after several days.

House moans quietly and Wilson leaps to nuke some chicken noodle soup, he hasn't opened his eyes or eaten anything solid in at least two days. Wilson lost track of the exact timeframe long ago.

When he enters the room House is awake, eyes fully open and looking a fair bit better.

He smiles at his friend. "Dare I say that Greg House is on the mend?" The hope in his voice is unmistakable and that hope is crushed as House says nothing to him. He blinks and stares blankly ahead at him, just as usual.

When Wilson sits down and starts to feed him, he thinks he catches a hint of disappointment on House's face.

- - - -

House is shaking violently as he throws up what little was in stomach. Wilson does his best to hold his friend steady as he soothes him quietly. He rubs his back and keeps repeating stuff like "It's okay, Greg. I'm here. It's going to be okay" over and over again.

When House finally stops, Wilson leaves to dispose of the basin and comes back with another basin of cold water and a few washcloths. He wets one, wrings it out, and tenderly washes House's face with it. House sighs softly in contentment and Wilson continues this for several minutes before he finally rests the cloth back on the sick man's forehead.

House reaches out suddenly to grab Wilson's hand and he squeezes. Wilson confidently squeezes back as stares at his friend, trying to see a hint of recognition in the blue eyes. He begins running his fingers though his hair again.

Wilson doesn't find what he's looking for as House's eyes begin to close again. But, before he slips into sleep again he whispers one word to Wilson that gives him a bit more hope.

"Stay…"

- - - -

Wilson has continued to sleep on his side of the bed from they day he brought House home. He wanted to be close to House should anything go wrong in the night, and he missed sharing the bed while he was in the hospital. Wilson woke up every morning to find House still slumbering most times, sometimes he'd be awake and staring at nothing but usually Wilson would wake up first.

He was awoken this particular morning by the sensation of something rubbing against his cheek. He slowly opens his eyes and he registers that it was House doing this to him, and he was wide awake. After a few moments of the two staring at each other, Wilson quickly registers the change that has happened in his friend.

House i _knows /i _him.

The older man smiles weakly as he moves his hand to curl around Wilson's neck. He gently pulls until their foreheads are resting against each other and he squeezes Wilson's hand.

"Jimmy…" is all that House manages to say to him but it is all that's needed. Wilson releases a grateful sigh and tries in vain to stop the tears from falling. House says nothing scathing, merely manoeuvres them so House is lying on his back again and Wilson's head is tucked under House's chin. He also finds his hand released, which grants Wilson the opportunity to cling tightly to the other man as he continues to cry softly with joy and gratitude. House holds him and gently hushes him and the tears eventually stop.

"Sleep, Jimmy," are the next words Wilson hears and he knows House has already fallen asleep himself. Wilson, as always, follows House.


End file.
